#inspired by a little mini fic about Rivers cuffs

[bonesuh]

it's not valentine's day anymore but let me LIVE!!

[vivaciouswordsmith]

New Thing

So, I got inspired by @ask-thevagabond‘s Wolf!Ryan AU (Yes, I’m aware of how late I am to hop onto this train. That’s kinda how I roll) and am starting on a fic based on it. It’s called Four-Legged Fiend and you can read it here or beneath the cut, as always. I hope you enjoy. :D

Chapter 1: One Man’s Trash

Police sirens wailed through the night while the best and brightest of the Los Santos Police Department sought them out. 

Sniffer dogs searched every slum, every nook and every cranny a criminal might hide in, and choppers circled restlessly over the tallest rooftops, but to no avail. It seemed that the two crooks had gotten away scot free with their jewelry store heist.

Several miles away, the two criminals in question peeped through the blinds of their hideout. It was a tiny, three-room shanty built into the side of Mount Chiliad that didn’t face Los Santos. Unless you knew how to get to it, the little hideout was impossible to find. The footpath leading up to it was almost overgrown, and the road accessing the footpath was made of dirt and gravel. It had cost them quite a few heists to invest in it, but seeing the cops swarm like ants over the city made the endeavors worth it.

“See? I told you this shack was a good idea,” said Geoff. He was the older of the two, and much more richly outfitted, even considering the liberal coating of dirt covering his black shoes and the cuffs of his pant legs. He let the blinds fall back into place and flopped down into his lawn chair. “They’ll never find us here.”

“Still, we cut it pretty fucking close,” said Jack. His clothes were much more casual, consisting of tennis shoes, white and blue striped shorts, and a Hawaiian shirt. He continued to watch the night while his partner relaxed. His heart still pounded hard after the chase through the city. “You know, that crew idea of yours is getting more appealing every day.”

“I know, right?” Geoff smirked up at him. “Think about how much easier it’d be to disable cameras and shit with a real tech expert.”

“What about an explosives guy? That’d made safe-cracking much less of a hassle.”

“See? See how awesome it would be?” A water bug skittered over Geoff’s shoe. He jumped and squashed it with his heel. “Besides, I’m fucking sick and tired of squatting in these fucking…fucking…holes.” He sagged into his chair and gestured towards one of the doors. “Now be a pal and grab some celebratory beers for us.”

“On it.” Jack turned from the window and made his way into the kitchenette. There was a mini-fridge and a tiny stove and one cupboard in there. They’d stocked it the week before the heist with the hopes that they could live off that until the coast was clear. Jack popped the door of the mini-fridge open and peered inside. There was one gallon of milk, a carton of orange juice, a carton of eggs, some sliced cheese, a package of lunchmeat, and four apples. No beer.

“Uh, Geoff? We have a problem.”

“Please tell me it has nothing to do with not having beer.”

“Bingo.”

Geoff let out an incredulous groan. Jack stood and shut the door. He returned in time to see Geoff drop his head into his hands.

“The one thing we didn’t fucking grab. Of course.”

“At least we have plenty to eat.” Geoff lifted his head and looked Jack dead in the eye. “You’re seriously not considering blowing our cover for beer, are you?”

“Why would I go? You’re the getaway driver.”

“Wha – why the fuck would I go?”

“You don’t stand out as much as I do!”

“Bullshit I don’t!”

“C’mon, what’s a heist wrap-up party without booze?” Jack didn’t budge. “Please? Fuck, I’ll even give you a bigger cut if you want.”

Jack sighed and finally relented. “Fine, fine, I’ll get your beer.”

“Great! I’ll see you in…however long it takes you to find a convenience store that hasn’t heard the news.” With that, Geoff pulled out a laptop and started tapping away at it.

“Whatever.” Jack turned on his heel, pulled the door open and stepped into the night. He struggled to close the door behind him, and as soon as it was closed, he was on his way. The footpath was even more treacherous at night, and he stumbled on rocks and roots jutting unseen out of the ancient path. Each trip was accompanied by a garbled swear and a frenzied stamping to regain balance. Fortunately, Jack made it back down to the little road alongside the river without severely injuring himself.

“Fucking finally. Thank God I didn’t fucking break anything.” The disgruntled getaway driver stepped toward his concealed car and immediately slipped on a loose river rock. “Goddammit!” He wormed it out of the ground and chucked it into the river. It plopped into the water and disappeared in a cloud of dirt. Several drops of water splashed against something dark and oddly plastic. Jack blinked and looked up.

A black garbage bag stuck out amongst the rocks in the river. Jack sighed and shook his head. He may be a criminal, but even he knew littering was wrong. He stepped down onto the bank, grabbed a stick and looped it through the yellow handles. The weight tugging on the stick made him pause.

“C’mon, a full garbage bag? Really?”

Jack toed off his shoes and waded into the river. He bent down and pulled the bag out of river fully. The lump at the bottom shifted. Jack trudged back to the bank and set the bag down next to his shoes. It flopped over, and the lump shifted to the middle. A tiny whimper sounded from the bag.

He stopped dead.

“Oh my God.”

Jack pulled a knife from his back pocket and cut through the knot keeping the bag closed. He pulled the bag open and reached inside. Something sharp nipped at his fingers, and a hot, sticky wetness engulfed the tip of his index. With his other hand, he pushed back the plastic.

A tiny black pup nipped weakly at his fingers. It blinked when the light hit its face and looked up. Jack let out a gasp. It had two bright blue eyes, and white markings around its eyes and on its nose and cheeks. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but those markings looked an awful lot like a skull. More white splotches dotted its back and tail, and one foot had a white sock. The pup whimpered and drew back into the bag.

“You poor thing.” He reached out and scooped the pup into his arms. It nibbled on his fingers for a few seconds, but ended up curling into his warmth. Its stick-like tail tucked between its legs, and it hid its face in Jack’s Hawaiian shirt with a soft whimper. Jack scooped up the bag and scowled at it. “Who the fuck would do this?”

Mt Chiliad didn’t offer him an answer, so Jack stood up and headed back to his car. With his free hand, he pulled out his phone and dialed Geoff’s number.

His partner picked up after two rings. “Seriously? Already? You just went out for drinks!”

“No, it’s not that, I’m fine. There’s no cops.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

Jack set the pup in his lap and started the car. The noise startled the pup, and it lifted its head and let out a little howl. “That. That’s why.”

Geoff was silent for a long moment. “Was that a dog?”

“I found it, Geoff. Someone dumped it in the river. In a fucking garbage bag.”

A sharp inhale whistled over the line. “Okay, that’s fucking awful, but we can’t keep a dog.”

Something nudged at Jack’s stomach. He looked down and saw the pup attempting to bury into his lap. His heart tightened in his chest, and tears beaded up at the corners of his eyes. He pet the pup’s tiny back with his index and middle fingers, and it relaxed and curled up in his lap.

“If you saw him, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Fuck. You’re already getting attached.” He sighed, and Jack could almost see him putting his head in his hands. “Fine. We’ll keep it while we’re in hiding, and then you have to find it a home.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s how it’s gonna go down.”

Jack drove down the highway with the utmost of care, much more than he usually did. Every time he went over a bump the pup whimpered and curled as tightly as it could. Its tiny heart pounded so quickly in its chest Jack could feel it fluttering against his leg. His tiny flanks heaved with every breath he took. Occasionally the crook would run a finger down the pup’s back, and it would relax ever so slightly.

It took him about twenty minutes to reach a relatively dead-end gas station in San Andreas. Jack crossed his fingers and hoped the news of the heist hadn’t reached it yet. He parked in front of the store and tucked the pup close to his chest. Its little paws batted at his hand before it burrowed into his chest with a whimper.

The door pinged when it opened, and Jack quickly ducked into an aisle. The clerk briefly glanced up from his magazine, saw Jack hovering next to the beef jerky, and returned to his articles. Jack let out a sigh and walked down the aisle toward the booze. He paused next to the canned dog food mid-aisle.

He looked down at the pup and stroked his tiny head with a finger. “Are you old enough for solid food?” The pup’s little blue eyes peeped up at him and blinked solemnly. “We’ll try it.” He grabbed a couple cans of food, swung around to the very first aisle, and picked up a few baby bottles. Next he grabbed a 24-pack of beer from the fridge and headed toward the register. Briefly he entertained the thought of shooting the cashier and walking out without paying, but they were in hot shit enough already without him bringing the heat to San Andreas.

He put a $20 down on the counter and cleared his throat. The cashier shut his magazine, picked up a decrepit scanner, and slowly rung up his items. The pup yipped and wiggled in Jack’s arm. He lifted him up and tucked him more securely against his chest. A wet nose snuffled at his neck and chin for a few seconds. Then the pup nibbled at the collar of his shirt and growled low in his throat.

The entire time he was checking out, Jack crossed his fingers and hoped he could get through this without resorting to violence. Ordinarily he wouldn’t be opposed to a shootout, but the tiny pup curled against his chest made him change tactics. Plus, Geoff would be up his ass if he brought any more heat down upon their heads.

After an eternity, the clerk put Jack’s stuff in a plastic bag and pushed it and his change across the counter. Jack scooped it up and hurried back to his car. He put the bag in the floorboard and set the pup in the passenger seat. It whimpered and huddled against the seat. Jack pet its ears and dialed Geoff’s number.

“I got the booze. We’re heading back now.”

Geoff was quiet for a long moment. “We?”

“Me and the puppy.”

“You seriously still have that thing?”

“Oh, trust me, once you see this little guy, you’ll understand.”

Suddenly, the pup scampered over the center console and into Jack’s lap. He started and nearly drove into a ditch. He regained control just in time for the pup to hide its face in Jack’s Hawaiian shirt. “Jesus Christ!”

“What? What’s going on? I swear to God-”

“No cops, I promise! It’s just…he’s really cuddly.”

“Jack, we’re not keeping it.”

“Just for the week, Geoff. At least until the heat blows over.” A tiny set of teeth nipped at the hem of Jack’s shirt, and Jack brushed the tips of the pup’s ears with his knuckles. “I’m telling you, when you see him, you’ll bend.”

“Bend nothing! We’re not adopting a dog. I don’t care how fucking cute it is.” Geoff hung up after that. Jack chucked the phone into the passenger seat and set about returning to home base.

All the while, the pup never moved from his lap.